Like an Actor
by Fanfictionlurker1
Summary: What would happen if Cypher had succeeded? Would he be disposed of by the Machines after outliving his usefulness? Or maybe not? AU. Character Deaths.


**Like an Actor**

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><p>"I don't want to remember nothing," said Cypher with calm determination. He found this decision only too easy to make. "<em>Nothing,<em>" he repeated, to get the point across, "you understand?"

Agent gave a slight nod, expression of his face never changing.

Cypher was no fool. He knew this could be nothing more than a ruse; a lie he was allowed to believe so he would cooperate. He wasn't oblivious to the possibility, that after doing his part he would be disposed of. However, it was a risk he was willing to take.

The way he saw it, he was forced to put his life on the line almost every day since he was unplugged. He spent nine years hiding from squiddies, and running from Agents. Every chase could be his last. Every virtual bullet could end him. At least this time, the risk was taken with hope for profit. This time, he had a chance of gaining something out of it. Gaining freedom, yes _freedom._ No more orders from Morpheus, no more cold ship, no more tasteless goop, no more uninhabitable desert.

Soon he would be free of this, one way or the other. He would either live in the Matrix, or not live at all. Plus, if that was supposed to be his last meal, it was a damn good one.

"And I wanna be rich," Cypher added, deciding to milk it for all its worth. "Someone important, like an actor." He took another sip of wine. It was strong and sweet, or it seemed that way.

Agent made a small gesture with his hands, an equivalent of a shrug. "Whatever you want, Mr. Reagan."

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><p>Everything went well in Lafayette Hotel, at least from Cypher's point of view. Morpheus was captured, most of the crew was still in the Matrix, as was the supposed <em>One<em>, and he himself was wide awake aboard the Nebuchadnezzar.

Next part of the plan, getting rid of the crew, was going almost smoothly so far. Almost.

He missed Tank at first, stream of electricity hitting his chair instead. Tank tried to fight back, but this time Cypher's aim was better. Dozer was next, shocked and enraged, charging in blind despair. Cypher made a quick work with him as well.

He half expected to feel guilt when this time came, yet he did not. For him, they were no longer comrades in arms, but jailers; standing between him and the way out. Zealots, helplessly blinded by Morpheus' lies and fairy tales. Always waiting for their mythical savior, who would never come.

Before moving on to the rest of the crew, he looked down at two dead bodies. After a moment of consideration, he pointed the rifle at Tank's corpse, which was less damaged of the two. Then he squeezed the trigger.

He kept alternating between targets, frying both brothers more thoroughly. He kept electrocuting both charred forms until his weapon ran out of juice. He wouldn't risk one of them surviving and turning the tables on him.

Better safe than sorry.

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><p>Capture of Morpheus meant victory for the Machines. For the Resistance, it was a beginning of the end.<p>

Informant did what was required of him; first he made the capture possible, than eliminated the rest of the crew before they could unplug their captain. The rest was in the hands of the Agents.

It took more than forty hours to finally break a mind of the great Morpheus. More than forty hours, for the code injected into him to finally shatter his defenses, and hack his brain like a computer. Then, the codes of Zion's Mainframe were finally theirs. After that, it took less than two weeks to completely destroy the last free human city.

And Agent Smith was still trapped. His kind were still in the Matrix, still waiting for orders. Unambiguous orders, that left no room for misinterpretation. Orders to _w__ait._

Just like that, all Smith's hopes were crushed, when the realization struck; there was no change. There was no freedom. As long as the system existed, the threat of new humans discovering the truth existed with it. Any victory was only temporary, and Agents were always needed. Hope was a mere delusion; nothing more.

Everything continued to exist in the state of anticipation, waiting for more humans to find their way out. Waiting for the cycle to begin anew.  
>It was, as he grew to understand, inevitable.<p>

Frustration and anger became Smith's near constant companions, but he knew better than to show them. Anomalous behavior would lead to his deletion, or exile.

In the end, he did what he had to do. Even though the stench was slowly driving him mad, he played his role. Like an actor.

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><p>Agents Smith, Brown, and Jones didn't stand out in any way, when they were walking into the movie theater. They were surrounded by humans, many of which were dressed in tight, leather outfits, black trench coats, or generic suits. Almost every pair of eyes was covered by sunglasses.<p>

"I still don't quite comprehend the purpose behind this," said Jones. "It seems illogical, even dangerous. We basically handed the answer to humanity. Detailed answer. This film will be a catalyst for the new Resistance."

"You might discover it will be just the opposite." Smith replied in a monotone. "It's a smokescreen, of sorts. Masterfully disguised truth about the nature of reality is given to the populace, as if it was nothing more than a work of fiction." He almost smirked at the irony. "This way, even humans who have their own suspicions about the world around them, view the answer as less believable than they would otherwise. Future rebels will have much more difficult task convincing anyone, now that the truth had been branded as nothing more than an entertaining illusion."

It was a tactic to stop new minds from seeking a way out of the Matrix; or at least delay them. Smith knew by now, nothing would stop them.

"Paradox," commented Brown.

"Not the only one you'll notice tonight."

The movie was relatively faithful representation of facts. Well, the beginning of it anyway. Smith knew the final part took some liberties with the truth. He expected a traditional happy ending, something to please the viewers. He also expected to see a familiar face.

"I don't want to remember nothing," said the actor on the screen. "_Nothing._"

"Is this – ?" Jones asked in a whisper.

"Yes," Smith answered. "It's him."

Short surge of anger shot through him, when he stared at that face. That rebel, that _virus_ found the way out of the world he loathed; when Smith never would. He hoped when the war restarts, this former rebel will find his way out again. He hoped whatever spark of curiosity lived in him once, still existed at the bottom of his mind. He hoped this individual will turn against the Matrix once more.

And he hoped he'll be the one to take his life.

But, of course, he already knew how much hopes are worth. Especially since that man's paycheck was certainly more than impressive. He played in a great blockbuster, after all. Critically acclaimed masterpiece.

On the screen, the man once known as Cypher recited his lines, "And I wanna be rich. Someone important, like an actor."

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><p><em>The End<em>

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><p><strong>AN:** English isn't my native language, so I apologize for mistakes, and ask for your tolerance.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Matrix. It owns me.

**Pleading for reviews:** You know, every fanfiction author loves reviews. Yours truly certainly does. So, you beautiful readers, leave a comment, or several comments.


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